Schwerpunkt
by Lordhoth444
Summary: Fate changes, those destined to die live, and team RWBY's world will never be the same. This is a story of survival, bravery, and will to survive of men thrust into the most dangerous situation they can imagine. Rated T (might raise to M) for death, destruction, and 15 inch guns.
1. Chapter 1

Schwerpunkt

 **A/N I do not not own RWBY. All people in this story are represented as accurately as I can and no disrespect is meant.**

 **Also thank you Girl-of-action for Betaing**

Ruby looked into the sky and thought about the beautiful stars that lined the heavens. Today was the start of her second semester at Beacon Academy, and despite the "best day ever" that she just had with her friends, Ruby was now in a contemplative mood.

"What is it sis?" Yang asked, observing her sister's sudden change of mood.

"Do you wonder if anything, or anyone is out there?" Ruby asked. "Other people I mean..."  
"Well, scientifically speaking there are several theories that suggest that it could be possible" Weiss said, ever the knowledgeable one.

June merely look on, confused by Weiss's statement and a bit worried about the implication.

"Geez sis, why do you ask the hard questions?" Yang said half-jokingly. Becoming more serious (well, serious for Yang), she continued, "I don't know, but I doubt it matters to us either way."

"Yes, in the event that those theories are correct it would be almost impossible for something to happen. It is merely scientific conjecture at this point anyway." Weiss continued, "Besides if somehow a gate was opened between two worlds it would be almost impossible for something to come through. They would have to be at the exact right place at the exact right time."

June sighed in relief, "so in other words never going to happen."

"Yes June," Weiss said with a condescending smile, "never going to happen."

How wrong they were.

...

They were running.

They were running for their very lives, hoping against hope that their approaching foe could somehow be lost or shaken or perhaps just give up and go home. However that was not going to happen, and there was no way they were going to outrun their fate.

The blowers whooshed with the effort of keeping the 12 boilers, that powered the great vessel, provided with air. In turn the boilers gave power to the engines that pushed her along at her speeds of 30 knots, about 34 MPH- an impressive speed for the 50,000 ton behemoth that the ship was. The three great propellers that drove her knife like form though the sea shuddered with the effort of maintaining that speed, and the tireless efforts of her 103 officers and 1,900 sailors had been nothing short of heroic over the last few days. However, despite all of the efforts of both machine and man, the ship was going to die.

Her name was Bismarck, and this was her last day of her life on Earth.

Ernst Lindemann, Captain of the Bismarck, could only look out past the bow of the ship to where the coast of France, still far out of view, lay. It seemed so close, offering safety and protection, but all he would have to do was step out on the bridgewing and look behind his ship to put the lie to the hope that they could reach safety.

Behind him and coming up fast was the British fleet, and they wanted revenge for the loss of HMS Hood only a few days before. He could have outrun the battleships of the encroaching fleet, Bismarck was designed to undertake long operations alone and capable of outruning anything she could not outfight. However there was no way she could escape the cruisers that were coming up fast from behind, once they got into range he would face an impossible choice. He could keep withdrawing and engage them with only the two rear guns, a fight he would almost certainly lose, or turn and engage them with the full might of the eight, 15 inch guns at his command. If he tried that though he would never be able to defeat them and escape the battleships coming up from behind, and once they caught up to him it would only be a matter of time.

Fortunately he did not have to face the terrible choice alone. Admiral Günther Lütjens, overall commander of the operation stood on the bridge with him, looking out over relatively calm sea as well. Lindemann had not known what to think of the man at first; he had seemed overly careful at first and while Lindemann was not an ardent Nazi, he had been somewhat hesitant about Lütjens being one-fourth Jewish. Despite that he had come to respect his commanding officer in their time together, short though it may have been, and he had to admit that one of his regrets about his own imminent death would be the lost chance of learning more about the man with him. He was once again glad that he was in the Kriegsmarine and not the army, as the Kriegsmarine had basically been ignoring the orders to remove people with Jewish ancestry since Hitler came to power.

"Not that any of that matters now," he thought, looking out once again over the horizon. The bridge crew with him was very tense; they knew how desperate their situation was and were casting hopeful looks in both his and Lütjens direction.

"Well if they get any bright ideas I hope they tell me about it, the best I have is to keep running and hope for a squall to hide in, if we can just break line of sight and open the range…"

As if his words had summoned the event the bridge talker (the young officer in charge of keeping the bridge in contact with the other parts of the ship) suddenly stiffened.

"Sir, lookout reports say squall is forming about 8 kilometers out, two degrees off the port bow."

Lindemann immediately stepped forward to the bridge windows, while the battleshutters were down at the moment a small slit in the armor over the windows allowed him to see the squall beginning to form right were the lookout had said it would be.

While Lindemann was busying himself with this task of turning the ship towards the storm, Lütjens had stepped outside onto the port (left) bridgewing, when he returned to the bridge Lütjens strode over to Lindemann with his usual brisk manner.

"We will make the squall before the cruisers enter our effective range, but not by much."

Lindemann nodded, projecting an air of calm confidence for the men around him. However inside the news made him feel rather bleak. If they were that close already, it would not be long before even a squall as powerful as the one before them becomes incapable of hiding them from their pursuers.

As Bismarck approached the squall however, Lindemann began to feel nervous. There was something off about it, perhaps it was the way that it had formed so rapidly and come to such an intensity so quickly... Or perhaps it was the sickly green glow that emanated from the swirling rain and lightning above.

The bridge crew soon began to grow uneasy about entering the squall as well; a low muttering had broken out among the junior officers standing at their post. This was silenced however by a stern word from Lütjens, who unlike Lindemann was a strong disciplinarian. Lindermann at first had taken this quality to mean that Lütjens did not care much for his crew, but soon learned that Lütjens cared just as much for his crew as Lindermann himself did, he just had a different way of showing it.

At long last the bow of Bismarck plunged into the squall, quickly followed by the rest of her 823 foot form.

At first it seemed like a normal squall, if a bit more intense than Lindemann had expected. The intensity was a good thing though, it would better shield them from detection. Linderman was about to order a course change to throw off their pursuit when the thundering roar of the rain stopped. For a second all was strangely quiet, then the young helmsman gave a cry of alarm and stumbled back from his post, hands quivering. Lütjens began to snap at the man to return to his post, but stopped halfway through his reprimand, having at last seen what had frightened him so. Both Lütjens and Lindemann saw it at the same time. The rain had indeed stopped, but it had not gone away. The rain droplets hung there, suspended and unmoving, slowly splattering against the battleshutters as Bismarck sailed forward. No one moved or spoke for several long seconds. Then with a startling suddenness the propellers that moved the ship ran away, spinning free as if they had been removed from the water. The screws running away like that should only happen if the ship was pitching in a heavy sea and only for a second or two, but it continued on and on as the ship ceased its movement forward and came to a dead stop.

Lindemann and Lütjens raced onto the port bridgewing without a word and looked back towards the stern of the ship to find out what had happened. Lindemann could not speak for Lütjens, but what he saw was simultaneously the most beautiful and terrifying thing he had ever seen in his 47 years. The sea was gone. Below the ship, past the red paint that would normally mark the waterline and past the very bottom of his beloved Bismarck, all that could be seen was millions upon millions of small water droplets, suspended in midair. The mighty warship hung there above it in an otherworldly kaleidoscope of water and in that strange green fog from before, all unmoving. Around them and across the ship the cries of alarmed sailors were raised as men saw what had happened, and even the bravest among them were afraid. The three propellers wound down as engineering realized that something had gone very wrong and had shut down the propellers to prevent them from damaging themselves.

Lindemann tuned to Lütjens and tried to say something, but for once words escaped him. Lütjens looked over at him and shook his head slowly, confirming that he had no more idea about what was going on than Lindermann.

As the engines died a haunting silence gripped the ship, broken only by the cries of the surprised and terrified men. Looking below, Lindemann at last saw something. "Lütjens," he said pointing down. Below them and coming up fast was the sea, rising from the depths to meet their ship and accompanied by a growing thundering noise as the water raced upwards. Lütjens did not lose a second and looked back into the bridge. He showed with an urgency Lindemann had never heard from him as he said, "Sound the collision alarm and brace yourselves." _Gong, Gong, Gong,_ went the alarm as men all around the ship grabbed onto anything they could find and prepared for an impact. Lindemann and Lütjens stood proudly on the bridgewing however; ready to face whatever came with dignity.

The expected violent impact never came. The sea rose almost gently up to meet them, with the Bismarck only slightly rocking as the water came up to her proper position around the ship. Lindemann could only stare at the newly returned sea in amazement. He was rudely jerked from his contemplation as with a mighty whoosh the rain finally remembered the force of gravity and came thundering back down on the ship. Both Lindermann and Lütjens beat a hasty retreat back to the bridge and shelter from the newly restored elements.

Lindemann was the first to regain control of the situation. No matter what oddities were happening with the weather or his very understanding of the world, he still had a ship and crew to save. With a calm voice he commanded, "All ahead flank, Rudder amidships; let's get out of the squall." It took a moment for the rest of the bridge detail to collect themselves, but within moments the ship was underway again.

Lindemann approached Lütjens and with a quiet voice asked, "Sir, have you ever seen or heard of something like _that_?"

Lütjens shook his head, "No, and never have I heard any sailor tale or story like it either. For now let us concentrate on getting out of the squall and away from the British. After that we can worry about what happened." With a nod and salute (the navy salute, not the one of Nazi party's), he returned to his station at the center of the bridge.

It was only a few minutes later that the fearsome squall broke. Bismarck surged out of it like the greyhound she was, water streaming off of her great bulk. Behind her, the sun beat down around the last remnants of the strange and terrifying storm as it collapsed in on itself. Lindemann looked to the talker, "I want a report on those cruisers now, we need to know how much space we have to work with." The talker nodded and set to work talking to the lookouts. It was only a few moments later that the talker looked up, confusion on his face. "Sir! The lookouts can't find the enemy cruisers, or the battleships for that matter… They say we are all alone."

Lütjens interjected, "Not possible- the squall was too small for us to be beyond their visual range. Even if they went off in the complete opposite direction, we would at least see their smoke."

"I'm sorry Sir," the talker replied nervously, "but we really are all alone." Lindemann looked at Lütjens, and just by each others expressions they both knew that they and their ship was possibly in more danger than she had been during the chase... Perhaps even more than when they had engaged the Hood at the Battle of the Denmark Strait. They both knew that something incredible, and for the moment unexplainable, had happened to their ship. And now they were all alone on a strange, iron gray sea.

 **A/N Dedicated to the crew of the battleship Bismarck. I hope you enjoyed, and as this is my first fanfic please let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thank you for all the reviews. Brief definitions: ahead standard-about ½ speed,all submarines are U-boats to the Kriegsmarine, fighting a ship-to have command of a ship during battle. While Lindemann and Lütjens are the Historical commanders of Bismarck all other crew are of my own creation. Read and review, I don't own RWBY**

Two hours. It had been two hours since Bismarck had passed into and out of the strange squall. As Lindemann strode back onto the bridge he could not help but wonder what was going on. He had just finished making the rounds around Bismarck, a duty that was not technically necessary but one he often performed. It did the crew good to see their captain walking the ship with calm confidence, even if that confidence was a lie. The only place that he had not been able to maintain the charade was in the radio room, when he had spoken with the operators and they continued to report that they had intercepted no contacts at all. Even the normal background noise of the bizarre, ghostly contacts of ships and planes talking to their comrades had completely disappeared; all that could be heard was the empty static. This could mean one of two things, one was that something had merely gone wrong with the somewhat temperamental equipment, and while the techs could not find anything wrong it was still the far more likely possibility. Another possibility was that the reason for the silence was that there was nothing to pick up on the radio. The other reason that Lindemann was concerned was because that even though they had reduced speed to ahead standard, they should have been able to see the coastline of France by now.

As Lindemann closed the bridge access hatch behind him his eyes searched out Lütjens in the darkened compartment. He knew that Lütjens was not going to like what he had to say, but as far as Lindemann could see they did not have any other options at this point. "I want to send the Arado up," Linemann stated in the most calm and matter-of-fact way he could. The Arado 196 was a two seater catapult launched scout plane, of which Bismarck had four of. They were excellent scout aircraft with over a 1,000 kilometer (670 mile) range and a top speed of 311 kilometers per hour (about 193 MPH).

Lütjens frowned, uncertain. "If we do send it up and there are any British Fleet elements nearby, we might as well fly a giant flag that says 'here we are, come kill us'." Lindemann was stunned, not by the analysis for he had worked out the same thing himself, but by the fact the Lütjens had just made a joke. Lindemann had never heard Lütjens make a joke before.

It took Lindemann a moment to recover from his surprise, but when he did it was right back to business. "Yes, sir, I am aware of that; however we need to find out what our current situation is. We have not had any contact from the enemy fleet since the squall, and in my calculation it is worth the risk."

Lütjens sighed, "Very well, you may proceed, and if truth be told I agree with you; I just hope this will get us some answers."

…...

Friedrich Hantzsch, pilot of the Arado, could only look out to sea and wish that he was in the air. For the last six hours he had been standing by, his plane waiting for the order to take off. Friedrich was somewhat disappointed in the Arado. Even though the Arado was a fine plane, it could not hold a candle to his beloved Bf 109 fighter that he had once flown. Friedrich had been in the Condor Legion during the Spanish Civil War in 1937, and had been well on his way to making a name for himself as a fighter pilot with four kills, only one away from being an ace. Unfortunately that was when fate had struck him hard. One day when returning from a patrol, a particularly dim Spanish Nationalist pilot had somehow mistaken his Bf 109 for a republican aircraft and opened fire. The Nationalist had realized his mistake almost immediately, but by that time it was too late. Two rounds from the 7.7 MM guns on the Nationalist's plane came right through Friedrich's canopy and one had lodged in his arm. That had been more or less the end of his fighter pilot days. He had spent the next few years being bounced around to different training camps, due to his injury. However last year the navy had been very interested in acquiring skilled pilots, even ones with damaged arms. So, even though it was just an old slow float plane, he was once again allowed to fly.

Despite that, he was feeling quite angry at the moment due to the fact that he had been sitting at his battle station next to his plane for six hours straight with nothing to do. So far he and his observer had both run a maintenance check and found everything in working order, but besides that there was nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs while the ship ran for its life. Unfortunately this idleness had given him plenty of time to contemplate what had happened in the squall. What he had concluded about the squall was that it was the weirdest and scariest thing he had ever contemplated, and it was still bothering him hours after it had happened.

Friedrich was brought out of these thoughts when the commander of flight ops strode out towards him. "We need you to take your plane up, get high and check the surroundings of the ship. Do not leave visual range of the ship and check the four directions only, check ahead first and be fast, radio silence unless it's an emergency, now move it."

Somewhat miffed about his unceremonious dismissal, Friedrich clambered up the Arado's side and into the cockpit. He was followed a moment later by the observer behind him, who also manned the rear firing gun. With a shaking sensation the aircraft was lifted off of the deck and placed on the catapult by one of Bismarck's cranes. After performing startup of the main engine Friedrich looked back to his observer and asked, "You ready to go?" One thumbs up later Friedrich stuck his arm out the window and also gave the thumbs up to the catapult operators, then closed the canopy and revved his planes engine to full power. With a kick that felt like it came from God's own boot, the catapult launched his aircraft into the sky.

It took only a few moments for the Arado to clamber into the sky and head east, far ahead of Bismarck. All that Friedrich could see for miles was sea, sky, and more sea, with only a few clouds on the horizon. "Alright," Fredrich's observer Eric Krahl said. "That's for enough for this, I can barely see Bismarck so we need to head to the southern point." Friedrich turned his plane in a lazy bank to the right, sending them out so that they would be due south of Bismarck, off of her starboard side. After reaching that point there was also nothing to see.

Friedrich turned his Arado north and prepared to pass over Bismarck to head to the next waypoint in the search. As Friedrich prepared to fly high over Bismarck the internal com between him and Erich buzzed, then his observers voice cut in. "There is something down there, can't quite make it out from here. Take us down a bit so I can see what is going on." The Arado went into a bank with the right wing down so that the observer could maintain eye contact with whatever had caught his attention. Whatever it was, it was only a few kilometers away from Bismarck's steadily growing form. As Friedrich leveled out at about 500 feet, he could at last see what had perturbed his observer. It was a dark stain on the water, about 200 feet long and 50 feet wide. The form was unmoving, sitting lazily in the water, and Fredrich's first thought was that it was a shallow spot, perhaps a reef of some sort. Then the spot began to move.

Erich cried out, "That's a U-boat , it has to be, nothing else could be moving like that."

Friedrich was not so sure. While it was the right length for a U-boat, he had never heard of any nation having one that wide. Regardless he asked, "Ours or the Brits?"

"One of ours would have surfaced; good chance it's the Brits. I am calling this in, and damn the radio silence order."

…..

 _Bismarck's Bridge_

Lindeman was staring out of the bridge viewing ports, thankful that the battleshutters had now been mercifully raised, and wondered what in the hell their scout was doing. Something had clearly caught their attention, but Lindemann could not tell what it was. Finally the radio operator grabbed his headphones, getting a message from the scout. He looked up, worried, "Sir, the scout reports unidentified U-boat approximately one kilometer ahead and to starboard, moving slowly ahead and on and intercept course."

Lindemann nodded and spoke the commanding authority, "All hands to combat stations, ahead flank, hard starboard turn. Get Admiral Lütjens back to the bridge." Lütjens had been back in the chart house speaking to the navigators about the current situation and getting their best guess of Bismarck's current location. It would be a few minutes before he could return to the Bridge. The crew of Bismarck had also been at their combat stations since they had made contact with the British, the alarm was more meant to alert them that something was happening than to summon them back to their post.

One minute and thirty seconds after the report form the scout, one of the lookouts caught sight of the shadow right were the scout said it was. Almost simultaneously with this report Lütjens returned to the bridge, but stepped aside to allow Lindemann to fight his ship. Lütjens was the Admiral, in charge of making command decisions and leading the fleet, it was Lindemann's job to fight his ship. With a suddenness that was completely uncharacteristic of any U-boat that Lindemann had heard of, the dark stain on the water surged ahead, making a direct line for Bismarck as if it intended to ram them. _"That's insane,"_ Lindemann thought, _"There is no way that a U-boat could survive contact with our torpedo belt armor."_

The unidentified U-boat accelerated at speed that Lindemann had not thought possible, finally topping out at about 30 knots. The object clearly intended to ram them, mad as that seemed. It was now a race between Bismarck's turn and the object. Linderman was no longer sure is was a U-boat with that onrushing charge. Bismarck won the race, barely. The mysterious but clearly hostile object darted by, just off the port bow, and continued on. Lindemann ordered Bismarck to steady out and steam directly opposite of the strange attacker's course. Throughout this event the scout plane continued to fly above them, unable to influence the battle one way or the other.

The dark shape slowed and began turning to the right, ceasing all movement when it became parallel to Bismarck. "Bring us around to port, I want all eight of our guns pointing at that thing," Lindemann commanded. In response the eight 15 inch guns began to swing around to port. The smaller secondary battery of 5.9 in guns were already almost focused on the small dark stain on the water out to port.

Then it surfaced. It came out of the water like any U-boat would, but immediately the differences were apparent to all the well trained Kriegsmarine sailors on board Bismarck. For one there was no conning tower, rather there was a black ridged back that suck out of the water. For another where there should be dive planes, there was a large flipper like object. Linderman's eyes narrowed. _"Wait a moment,"_ he thought to himself. _"Those are not flipper like objects, they are flippers, what on earth…"_ Then with a mighty rush of water the sea monster's head lifted out of the ocean. The upper portion was completely covered in thick white bone armor, streaked with red lines. Where the armor was positioned and its angling left no doubt that it was meant to be used as a ram. A single hole was visible in the amour, about halfway between the top of the head and the mouth filled with wickedly pointed teeth. Inside that hole was a single beady eye, staring straight at them. Then the mighty beast threw back its head and roared at them, a deep guttural sound that promised death and destruction.

Just then Bismarck let out a roar of her own as her secondary batteries hurled out their 100 pound projectiles at the monster before them. Unfortunately the appearance and unexpected power of the beast had badly shaken the gunners, and all but one of the shots missed. That single shot slammed into the beast and blew away a gobbet of flesh from its rear. Instead of howling in pain or fleeing however, the beast dove down below the water again and came right at them.

Lindemann knew that he had to act now in order to prevent that sea monster from hitting them. He had no idea if it would or even could penetrate their torpedo belt armor, but he had no desire to find out. Again he ordered a hard turn to starboard and again there was that same race against the clock. This time however Lindemann ordered Bismarck to level out before the beast passed them, betting that it was smart enough not to fall for the same trick twice. Lindemann was right and the sea monster passed harmlessly behind them, ending up on their starboard side.

The gun director was clearly paying attention despite the shock of seeing an honest to god sea monster attacking his ship. Within moments the main battery had reversed directions and was heading out to starboard. Linderman frowned, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. "Guns," he commanded. "Keep out to port and only engage the target on that side." There was no acknowledgment but the guns again reversed course, heading back out to port.

Lütjens stepped up next to him, a concerned look on his face. Before he could speak Lindemann cut in hastily. "Sir, I am one of the best gunnery officers the Kriegsmarine has. I was one of the top trainers at the academy and that was why they gave me the pride of the fleet. Let me fight my ship." Lütjens looked at him only for a moment, then nodded and backed away. "Alright people hard to port we need this thing directly out to starboard if this is going to work." Slowly Bismarck turned around, executing a 180 degree turn, being matched by the beast the whole way, in fact it was slowly creeping ahead of them. Lindemann calmly told the helmsmen to steady out the ship, still keeping one eye watching the beast. With a swiftness that any destroyer would envy, the sea monster turned away from the ship starting a long arcing turn that Lindemann was sure was meant to bring it back in for another pass on Bismarck.

Lindemann looked over to the bridge talker. "Let engineering know that they need to be ready for a fast speed change as soon as we signal it. I need it to happen, ok?" The talker nodded and relayed the message while Lindemann again focused on the beast. As he had predicted it was coming around again heading on an intercept course and rapidly gaining speed. Lindemann's pressed eye gaged the range carefully, and when he was certain the moment was right he made his move. "All back emergency." The ship shuddered under the strain that its reversed engines put upon it. She seemed to vibrate with protest and her bulkheads creaked and groaned with the stress of taking the reversal of all three of the ship's screws. However the plan worked the sea monster surged ahead just in front of Bismarck, the wake of her passage splashing up around her bow.

Unfortunately there was no time to celebrate; Linderman quickly signaled the ship the return to ahead flank, putting even more pressure on the hull. Now all he could do was sit and wait, hoping that the beast complied with what he wanted it to do. It did, with a roar of outrage it breached the water just off to port, glaring at Bismarck with its sinister eye. Unbeknownst to its cunning but rather slow-witted mind, it had just placed itself right in the path of all eight of Bismarck's 15 inch guns.

For everyone staying on Bismarck's bridge, and indeed anyone staying on her decks, it seemed like the world exploded with the overpressure of all of the guns firing at once. Bismarck rocked with the force of the recoil as eight 1,800 pound shells flew out of her main battery. The main guns of any battleship were not meant to engage targets at this close of a range, so it was not a surprise that so many failed to connect. Four of the shots went long, sailing over their target to splash down harmlessly into the sea, another two fell short, creating violent geysers of water but doing nothing to harm their target. However the last two, fired from the number four turret (nicknamed Dora by her crew), slammed home. 3,600 pounds of explosive shot moving at 2,690 feet per second rammed straight into the body of the sea monster and exploded. It is safe to say that the beast was at least killed, if not completely obliterated.

On Bismarck's bridge a chorus of cheers went up as the shells connected. Lindemann could see the great bony ram that had adored the creature's head fly nearly 100 feet before splashing back down into the sea. When the smoke cleared Lindemann smiled and turned to Lütjens, who nodded in that curt way of his, signaling the only amount of approval that he ever gave. His eyes however gave away the pride he felt in both Lindemann and his ship.

...

Four hours later dusk was beginning to fall, Lütjens had summoned the heads of all the departments to a meeting. At long last they had brought the crew down to a lesser alert status, allowing one half of the crew to get rest while the rest stayed at their stations. Outside the sky was beginning to darken as dusk fast approached. Lütjens sat at the head of the table, with Lindemann on his right. "All right," Lütjens said. "Let's go over what we know and what we don't know. One, we do not know where we are. Two, we know that there has never been a credible report of a sea monster on earth and three, our radio has made several attempts to contact anyone and has failed every time. Does anyone here have an explanation for this?"

Mathias Schwefel, head of engineering, shook his head. "Sir, with all due respect, if there is no sea on earth where all these events could happen, it would make sense that we are not on earth then."

Niclas Spörl, the quartermaster, shook his head as well and gave a disgusted look to Mathias, "That's insane Mathias, even with the squall and everything else that's happened you can't believe that."

"Well can you explain it then." Mathias shot back.

"Quiet," Lütjens said, his soft voice offering a command that no one here would dare break. "It doesn't matter if we are on earth or not, for now we will have to operate on the assumption that we will be without resupply for a while. We have plenty of supply for now, our mission was a long term one, but I want all of you thinking about how we generate more fuel and food. Our first objective is to find land, so that is what we will be doing for the next few days at least. We will be using the scout and sailing in a search pattern until we find land. After that we will see where we stand. Dismissed."

...

Two hours later both men stood on the bridgewing, looking into the sky. "Well," Lindemann said, "It looks like Mathias was right." Above them, high in the sky a moon shone down on them, but it was not their moon. It appeared to have been broken apart, shattered even, and it cast an unearthly glow down upon their suddenly small feeling ship.

Lütjens nodded, "We have to tell the crew something."

"I will," said Lindemann firmly. "I am the captain, it is my responsibility." Stepping over to the bridge talker, he requested an open circuit to the entire ship. "All hands this is the captain speaking. As you know we have become lost, and have no idea where we are. We do not know if we are even on earth anymore." Lindemann stopped, struggling to find the words to say. How did you tell your crew, the people whose lives you were responsible for, that they would almost certainly never see their home again?

As he struggled with this, the bridge talker begins speaking. No, he began singing.

"Our black white red flag waves proudly on our vessel mast, wave against the enemy, who threaten you, who hate our colors." More voices joined in as the rest of the bridgewatch began to sing the song, which had been written for that older navy under the Kaiser.

"She flutters on the homeland beach with the wind back and forth, and far away from the German Fatherland on the troubled sea." Now across the ship sailors were taking up the song, and the bulkheads rang with their united voices.

"We want to be loyal to her, remain true till death. We want to ordain our life to her, the flag black white red." Now even Lütjens was singing, tears in the old man's eyes.

"Everywhere, where on the sea a high mast stretches, there the German flag is cherished and esteemed, it always provides protection to the empire on the sea, from any treacherous enemy in defiance, threaten Germany's honor." Now Lindemann himself joined in, singing with all his heart.

"We want to be loyal to her, remain true till death. We want to ordain our life to her, the flag black white red."

"And the wild storm drives us aground on a reef, no matter what form of danger threatens our vessel, we do not yield nor falter, we do, how it's a seaman's duty, death will not shrink us from our duty, even to the last breath." The sailors on the unknown sea continued to sing, refusing to give into the hopelessness of the situation. The old proud song gave them the will to carry on, come what may.

"We want to be loyal to her, remain true till death. We want to ordain our life to her, the flag black white red."

 **A/N Don't worry I have a plan for them to meet team RWBY, soon my friends, soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N IM Back :). The bad news is i still have carpal tunnel syndrome, however I am going to keep writing this fic regardless. Updates will continue to be a bit sporadic but as time goes on and I improve hopefully we will get to an update every 1-2 weeks. More info in the end A/N**

Ozpin sat at his desk and looked over the latest reports from Vale. The recent carnage caused by team RWBY and their fight with Roman Torchwick had created quite the mess to pick up. While their fight had taken up most of the news for the past few days and caused plenty of property destruction the overall fallout could have been a lot worse. No one had died incredibly, and worst that had happened was the council screaming at him to keep his students under control.

As he was pondering this Professor Goodwitch strode through the doors to his office, a dark look on her face.

"Sir an outlying faunus village reported finding a strange vessel in the outskirts areas of their perimeter; they are requesting assistance in the matter."

Ozpin frowned, it was most likely nothing, but with everything going on as of late he could not afford to let anything that could be related to the White Fang or the queen pass.

"All right Glenda, let's get going, I also want to take Professor Oobleck with us, he will be able to tell us about anything mysterious. Let's see what causing this." _I hope_ , he thought to himself, _that I'm being overly concerned about nothing, but I don't think so._

…..

Bismarck had just had the first good news in three weeks. At long last one of the scouts had discovered land. Upon hearing the news Lindemann had felt the first glimmering of hope that he had had since they had arrived on this strange world. Since the first monster attack they had come under assault twice more, but both of those creatures had been smaller and far easier to kill than the first. Now they faced the daunting task of finding out what strange world they had come to be in. The plan was simple enough- go ashore and recon the area, and see if any resources could be found. In a few hours Lindeman hoped, they would have their answers.

….

Oberst (Colonel) Klaus Esser strode through one of the storage areas of Bismarck and wondered at the strange new reality he found himself in. He was in command of the hundred or so men that made up Bismarck's marine detachment. They had been assigned to Bismarck to perform the role of protecting any crew that went aboard a captured ship. As a commerce raider it was hoped that this could be a likely outcome, and so a rather large detachment had been sent along. Of course now none of that mattered a great deal, he thought somewhat unhappily. Now he had to take his force into uncharted ground for a recon mission, and if he screwed it up the entire ship could end up starving to death or running out of fuel. In other words, no pressure.

His booted feet took him around the last turn and into what could jokingly be referred to as the ship's armory. Because of the need for hasty preparations the ship's armory was nothing more than a large storage compartment hastily fitted out with a few workbenches and crates of weapons and ammunition. What they had left out in aesthetic taste they had more than made up for in the quality of the weapons provided. There were plenty of K98 rifles and quite a few MP 38 submachine guns, but the icing on the cake were the eight MG 34 heavy machine guns that had been thoughtfully provided for their use. However the oddest things that were in the armory were the three Panzerbüchse 39 rifles. They were bolt action anti-tank rifles, and Klaus Esser had no idea why a boarding party would ever need such weapons. _On the other hand, perhaps I should not complain about having them now,_ he things, eyeing one of the oversized rifles speculatively.

At last he faced the 32 men in front of him, each divided into eight man squads. Their armament was fairly standard, the squad leader had an MP 38, six of the regular troops were armed with k98 rifles, and one man was assigned to look after the MG 34. Technically the MG 34 should be operated with two men, but they had limited room on the boat. All and all he had a lot of firepower to take with him.

As they were preparing to depart on their mission a moment of inspiration struck, Esser stepped over to where one of the anti-tank rifles was and looked to the men he had selected to take part in the mission. "Segert, put your popgun away and take this monster, just in case something a bit bigger than I would like comes along." Segert was a young man, a boy really, but was a great shot. Segert was clearly not happy about the prospect of caring around the 11.6 kg rifle, but nodded and grabbed the monstrous weapon and hoisted it onto his back. After he had collected the weapon and ammunition for it, he stepped back and returned to his post with a salute.

Klaus then grabbed his own MP 38 up and hosted over his shoulder. Looking over his men he gave them their final instructions. "Alright men, this is to be considered a recon in force. We are to look around and find out what we can. If we can avoid engaging anything that would be ideal, but stay alert. I don't trust this place any more than I trust the British," and with that rather lame joke they headed off to the boat that would take them ashore.

…

The German marines strode out onto the shore with elegance and gusto, demonstrating their extensive training and abilities; at least, that is what should have happened. The problem came from the fact that Bismarck had no landing craft; all they had was the admiral's personal boat, which was not in any way meant to perform landing operations. While attempting to get everyone on board the boat things had not gone well at all. Matters had become even more complicated when Oskar, the ship's cat who had a knack for getting into everything, began winding his way through the already confused situation creating an even longer delay in the launch. All and all, it took nearly an hour for everyone and everything to get stored away. Then it was one long cold and wet boat trip over to the gravelly beach that awaited them.

Their problems following this were even more exacerbated when the commander of the small boat refused to go any closer than waist deep water for fear of running aground. This lead to a thoroughly embarrassing disembarkation of Germany's finest. Poor Segert nearly drowned when he fell off the boat and into the sea with his heavy gun and ammunition, for it weighing him down. Eventually they managed to get everyone ashore and sorted out. The shore line was mostly a gray, gravelly affair that stretched out about 100 meters before giving way to a thick woodland that reminded him of some of the forest that had been near his home. That thought brought a pang of sadness, as he wondered if he would ever see his family again. His mother and father still lived in his childhood home, and for a brief moment memories of playing in the woods with his brothers and sisters overcame him.

The cursing of wet and angry men bought him out of his reverie. Despite all the difficulties they seemed to have made it in one peace. "Alright men," Esser barked in a clipped aristocratic manner. "Form up and be ready for anything, this situation is extremely unusual and we don't know what could be out there." _And isn't that the understatement of the century?_ Esser thought rather darkly. "Do your duty and we will come through this alright." With that they marched off into the woods.

…

Two hours later the expedition had turned up nearly nothing. For all the apparent strangeness of this world, the forest happened to be just a forest. If one with a little less wildlife than could be expected. They had found a few apple trees which confirmed that there was edible food in this land, so a least they were not going to starve to death. Just then one of the squad leaders called out to him, "Sir, over here. We have found something interesting."

Esser unslung his MP 38 and strode over to the sergeant and the two soldiers that were standing over what appeared to be a large rock. Frowning, Esser looked down upon the sight and wondered why they had called him over. Just as he was about to ask what was so important that they had stopped the mission, he saw why this rock was so interesting. Inside the rock was imbedded a crystal of some kind, it was red and shot through with lava like highlights, but that was not what made it unique. Inside the crystal appeared to be what could only be called liquid fire, racing around inside the strange structure with unusual beauty, you could tell just by looking at it that it was not of this earth. It took only a moment for the experienced officer to decide what to do. "Alright," he said to the sergeant. "Detail these two men to carry that rock back with us, I am going to want it examined back on Bismarck." In all honesty he did not know what good it would do. Bismarck was a warship and had no capability to examine rocks. Then again, with such a large crew perhaps there was someone on board that could know something about it. Regardless Esser ordered his men to start heading back to the boat, no use continuing to explore if they were going to be carrying what looked like a rather big rock around with them. So with that discovery they began to march back to the ship.

…

Friedrich Hantzsch was feeling quite smug at the moment. Flying high above the scout patrol that had been sent to survey the territory he could see for kilometers. His smug mood came from the fact that he was flying high above the grunts down on the ground and enjoying a beautiful day, while they had to trudge through the trees. This was certainly not the most professional of emotions for any pilot to have, but for once Friedrich was enjoying himself immensely. He could afford to be a little lax, in his emotions at least. Despite his general opinion of anyone who actually wanted to march around in the dirt as slightly less intelligent than your average rock, he had to admit that the marines were good at their job. There had been a frantic moment when he and his observer had actually managed to lose them in the trees, and they had not been able to reacquire them easily. However after two hours of flying around even he was starting to get bored, there was only so many times you could look at the exact same thing and remain interested. He was rudely jerked from his thoughts by the sudden cry of his observer, pointing down at something. At first it appeared that the trees were rippling, as if a strong breeze had taken them. However no breeze moved with such purpose or in such a small area. _Oh, crap,_ he thought, noticing that it was headed straight for the marines.

Esser and his men had hardly any warning when the great behemoth broke through the trees and charged them. It was a beast of unimaginable proportions, yet horribly familiar. Esser could clearly see that it was a scorpion, but no scorpion on earth had ever reached such a titanic size. Like the sea monsters they had encountered it was all black and white and its head was covered in a bony white carapace. Its long tale weaved back and forth above the beast, tipped with the most menacing looking stinger that Esser had ever seen.

For a moment no one moved, all of them transfixed by the sight of the scorpion from hell. It was Esser who recovered first, he turned and cried out to his men, so rattled by the beast appearance and arrival that his aristocratic mannerism completely disappeared. "What the hell are you men doing? Shoot that thing!"

Every weapon the area opened fire at once. First were the K98 rifles and MP 38s, but their small caliber bullets did not appear to have much effect on the scorpion. In fact, their fire just seemed to enrage it further. What did get its attention was the MG 34s popping up, only three of the four they had however. In theory the gun should be manned by two men. However, Esser had only assigned one man to each gun, thinking that it was very unlikely they would be needed. Unfortunately this decision had caused one of the guns to jam as soon as they opened fire, and even as Esser listened another gun fell silent.

The monster before them had not been idle this whole time. It had begun advancing towards them far more rapidly than Esser would have liked. Even only after a few seconds had passed, it had closed to within a dozen yards, too close to use the fragmentation or anti-tank grenades they carried. The beast had almost closed too their position when an almighty boom rattled through the forest, the shock from the gun sending leaves spiraling down from the trees. Segert had finally found a place to set up the anti-tank rifle and fired it. Incredibly, he had located a weak point in the armor, putting his shot between two of the plates on the tail of the scorpion. It was not a killing blow, but that certainly gave the beast pause. Its tail, barbed with the mighty stinger on the end, now hung at an odd angle, clearly useless. For a moment Esser hoped that this would cause the beast to retreat. This was not the case.

Instead it charged the small group of Germans with even greater fury, and while that evil looking stinger had been put out of action, its claws certainly could kill any one of the men he had with him. It raced forward; sharp gashes forming in its armor where their concentrated fire was finally starting to get through. It smashed through the front ranks of the firing line, causing two of the soldiers to jump aside to avoid the maddened beast. Esser could do nothing but continue to fire at the beast as it thundered towards Segert, which it clearly viewed as its largest threat. Segert could not reload his weapon in time and tried to throw himself out of the way of the wounded beast charge. This proved to be significantly difficult, since the position usually needed to fire his weapon required him to lie prone and there was very little time to react. Even so he almost made it.

Almost. As he scrambled out of the way, one of the great claws smashed down on his leg, reducing it to a bloody pulp. Almost all of the others had to stop firing for fear of hitting their downed comrade. Segert screamed in anguish, looking down at his leg in mixed horror and terror he cried out," someone help me, anyone please." He was crying uncontrollably now, blubbering like a baby as his ruined leg sprayed blood across the clearing. But even as he sobbed he had managed to grasp the anti-tank grenade strapped to his belt. Still crying in terror he held the grenade to his chest as his killer advanced over him, apparently savoring the chance to end the pathetic being that had wounded it. As it loomed over him, Segert let out I final cry filled with pain and terror. "MOM I LOVE YOU," and pulled the pin on his grenade. A moment later both man and beast we consumed by purifying flames.

…..

Professor Ozpin had followed the locals that had reported the strange sightings over the ridge and down towards the coast. Two other hunters had come here before him, including Professor Oobleck. Both were now standing atop the strange vessel that the villagers had found. The ship was perched halfway up the beach and did not appear to have anyone on it, and from what he had heard from both of them, everything about it was strange. There had been no one found with the strange ship, and no credible record of what it was doing here. The letters used in the ships log and other areas were the same, but they were jumbled in such a way that no one could understand them almost as if they were a completely different language.

"So," Ozpin said, looking at Oobleck, "what else have you found?"

"Well sir," Oobleck reply with his usual constant chatter, "the engine appears to run on an unknown principal with unknown fuel. It appears to be an even more refined version of oil. There were at one time ideas to use oil as fuel, however it was never fully pursued as dust is, even though it is far more plentiful. The ship also appears to have expended its entire weapons load, on what I cannot say."

"Is there any sign of the crew?" Ozpin asked.

"No," Oobleck replied, "no sign, there are no signs of anyone around at all, even though judging from the wreck sight the ship could only have been here for a few days."

Ozpin frowned but did not say anything, merely looking around at the state of the vessel. This was the last thing he need right now, another mystery. What with the White Fang and the queen both making their moves, and grimm activity on the rise, he really did not need another mystery running around screwing things up for him. Sighing, he could only look up at the side of the vessel to gaze at what could only be the mystery ship's designation, though he was certain that he would find no information in the records of the mysterious U-556.

…..

Esser and the entire marine force on Bismarck stood on the deck of the ship, all dressed in their finest uniforms. The drums beat a slow cadence as six soldiers carried the mortal remains of private Segert towards his final resting place at sea. In all honesty there was not much left to bury, most of his body had been reduced to a pulp by the blast that had killed both him and the monster that had attacked them. Esser struggled to maintain his sharp pose. He had lost men under his command before, but it never got any easier. Segert had been young, just 18 years old. He had still been living with his family when he volunteered to join the military, and his parents were the only ones specified to receive formal notification of his death. Though they were so far from home and likely never to see it again, Esser was still writing the letter to his parents. It helped him keep prospective. As the evening shadows grew long, Esser could just make out two shadowy figures on Bismarck's bridgewing. Captain Lindemann and admiral Lütjens watched from their vantage point, unwilling to break what was a marine memorial.

The drum cadence stopped as the men bearing Segert's remains stood next to the edge of the deck and raised the plank that was covered in the German navy ensign and weighted with shot from one of the secondary guns, onto the railing and over the water. Esser only hesitated for a moment before giving the signal, and with the report of the guard details rifles Segert's remains were committed to the deep. _A young man, just starting out in life had had it cut tragically short, claimed by random chance and bad luck_ , Esser thought. Somehow the fact that it had been taken by a mindless beast only made it worse; there had been no cause to fight for, no enemy which threaten the homeland, just a mindless beast that had taken the life of a man that Esser would never get to know. Looking up, Esser began leading the old funeral march for a fallen comrade, having trouble keeping the tears from his eyes.

I once had a comrade,

You will find no better.

The drum called to battle,

He walked at my side,

In the same pace and step.

The bullet came flying,

Is my turn or yours?

He was swept away,

He lies at my feet,

As if it was a part of me.

He still reaches out his hand to me,

While I am about to reload.

I cannot hold onto your hand,

Rest you in eternal life,

My good comrade.

…

Lindemann silently observed the presiding with an only slightly sad expression on his face. He could not show his true emotions, less the crew become disheartened. Lindemann somehow knew that this was not the last burial that would occur before they returned home, but he could not let himself think about all that they had lost and all that they were going to lose. He had to think of the living, not the dead. It was his and Lütjens responsibility to bring as many of the sailors under their command home. As both he and Lütjens strode back onto the bridge he forced his thoughts to turn away from a man that he had never known and would never know, yet had died under of his command...

Farther south a plane had found a deep channel that headed inland, one that appeared to be too deep to be natural. Even now they steamed towards it, hoping to find greener pastures than the hell that they had found here. No matter the cost they had to find a safe harbor and supplies, and after that a way home. Only a man who knew him well could have seen Lindemann's face tighten a bit. He would not let the sacrifice of one young man go to waste; he would not let the sacrifices of the entire crew go to waste. They were the Kriegsmarine, they would do the impossible in the name of the Fatherland, and they would come home no matter the cost.

 **A/N for everyone's information you can look up Oskar's own Wikipedia page under Unsinkable Sam, he survived three different ships being sunk out from under him. Be very afraid when he meets Zwei. Also all songs in this fic are real ,Ich hatte einen Kameraden and Stolz weht die Flagge Schwarz Weiss Rot, you can find both on YouTube. Quick question , should this fic be razed to M? Would like your input on this. See you in chap 4.**


End file.
